


Like a Wishing Well and a Bolt of Electricity

by littlemel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-20
Updated: 2013-04-20
Packaged: 2017-12-09 00:55:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemel/pseuds/littlemel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian knows that look, he just didn’t really think Tyler would act on it.  At least, not tonight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like a Wishing Well and a Bolt of Electricity

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently this is what happens when Hoechlin instagrams a pic of himself with his hand on Ian's leg. Set the night of the MTV Movie Awards, so there's some minor infidelity ahead. For Regina (she knows why <3) and with thanks to Adriana for the read-through and reassurance. Title from “Werewolf” by Fiona Apple, and I swear that was an accident.

Ian’s washing his hands when Tyler comes in, not exactly sideways but a little drunk of center. He ambles over and leans his hip against the sink next to Ian’s. 

“Hey.” Ian smiles at Tyler’s reflection, shakes out his wet fingers before combing them through his hair. He got pulled into doubling with Tyler and Brittany to the afterparty at the last minute, but Kelley’s a sweet girl and Ian never passes up an opportunity to have a pretty young thing on his arm. He inspects his reflection, straightens the collar of his jacket. Tyler’s watching him, eyes glassy.

“You okay?” Ian asks.

“I’m a little drunk,” Tyler confesses, stage-whispered like it’s a secret to any of them. He’s all teeth when he smiles. “And I smoked up with Posey after the show. So...”

Ian laughs. He’s not exactly sober either; they probably all should’ve thought twice about that round of shots. “So you’re good, then.” 

Tyler nods, still smiling. “Yeah! I just. Um-”

He takes a half step forward, curls his fingers in Ian’s lapel and tugs, his mouth sharp with tequila and lime when it presses hotly to Ian’s. Ian makes a sound that’s maybe not as surprised as it should be, but Tyler’s been casually invading his space for weeks; hell, maybe it’s been months, longer, and Ian’s only just started to notice. It was hard to miss the ten minutes Tyler just spent with his hand on Ian’s leg, though, batting his eyelashes and smiling too wide at everything Ian said. Ian knows that look, he just didn’t really think Tyler would act on it. At least, not tonight.

But Tyler’s backing him against the cold tile and Ian’s kissing back, his fingers curling in Tyler’s jacket. The back of Ian’s head bumps the wall and the kiss goes drunk-dirty and biting, messily eager. The wet sounds of it echo around the bathroom, the scratch of Tyler’s beard sparking heat under Ian’s skin. Shots might not have been the best idea, but maybe they weren’t the worst, either. Ian’s hips hitch up when Tyler’s thigh pushes between his, muscles straining and flexing. 

They’re both half-hard already but Ian’s got one eye on the door, too conscious of the lights and noise on the other side, all those ears and eyes. Tyler’s fingers dig under Ian’s shirt, the side of his fingernail scraping Ian’s stomach. Ian shivers, hisses in a breath and ducks out of the kiss; he relents once, twice when Tyler nudges after him. 

“Whoa, hey.” Ian lays his hand flat on Tyler’s chest, but doesn’t push. Tyler pulls back but doesn’t step away, breathing loud and boozy-hot in the close space. His heartbeat pounds unsteadily against Ian’s palm. “Probably a bad idea tonight.”

It’s probably a bad idea full stop, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be a hell of a good time. Just not here and not tonight, at an MTV afterparty lit as much by camera flashes as anything, and both of them here with other people. Ian might be a lot of things, but an inconsiderate date has never been one of them.

“Right.” Tyler exhales harshly and takes a step back. “Bad timing.”

Ian’s eyes flicker to Tyler’s reflection. He’s flushed all across his chest, his neck, his face pink from the tops of his cheeks to the roots of his mussed hair. His jacket is hopelessly crinkled, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything else.

“We good?” Ian asks after a beat.

Tyler hesitates, then nods. “Yeah.”

“Good.” Ian scrubs his hands over his face and checks his reflection again, trying not to laugh at the telltale redness of his mouth, the starburst-shaped wrinkling of his shirt where Tyler’s fist was clenched in it. Ian's jacket covers most of the damage, and he does his best to smooth out what his lapels don’t hide. “I’m gonna head back.”

“I’ll be there in a sec.”

Ian grins. “You might wanna splash some cold water on your face.” 

Tyler cracks a smile, big and real and bright, and lets out another loud breath, edged with a laugh. “Yeah, thanks. I’m on it.”

“And hey-” Ian cuffs a hand over the back of Tyler’s neck and hooks him in for another quick press of lips. “Another night,” he says, and can’t tell if Tyler nods or shrugs when he lets go.


End file.
